


Kingdom Come

by achievingelysium



Series: Kingdom Come [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: (there's death), And like, F/M, also also hellooo ladynoir, also chat blanc, also marichat makes an appearance, and so does ladrien bc... i mean it's ladrien they're so perfect and pure it hurts, idk how to use ao3 im sorry like how does this even work?? im a ffnet person help me, so it jumps around a lot in the story time line, theres fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 05:36:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6226018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achievingelysium/pseuds/achievingelysium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Through blurred vision, Mari watches Chat stand, his face distorting in something that is more than grief, more than anger. His claws curl into a fist, black as night, and she smiles. She’s won. </p><p>“You,” snarls Chat Noir. “You did this.”</p><p>Mari will do anything for her beloved Chat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kingdom Come

**Author's Note:**

> so this is my first ML fanfic but definitely not my first fic ever. umm let's see there's angst, Chat Blanc, stuff happening, I love it personally thanks. also cross-posted on ffnet and tumblr lmao.
> 
> i hope you like it

_Present._

Through blurred vision, Mari watches Chat stand, his face distorting in something that is more than grief, more than anger. His claws curl into a fist, black as night, and she smiles. She’s won.

“ _You,_ ” snarls Chat Noir. “ _You_ did this.”

_Fourteen hours before._

Tikki hovers behind her, flitting around her face as she watches Mari write. She’s quiet, offering only a few suggestions for words here and there when Mari blanks out but otherwise silent. Mari appreciates it.

“I’m scared,” she says finally as she writes the last few words. _It is not your fault, whatever’s happened. And Paris will always need someone to protect it – please make sure it’s you._ “What if…”

 _I love you more than I can say. Forgive me._ She doodles a heart and a ladybug before signing it with _Marinette_ in long, loopy letters that fill the rest of the page.

Then she seals it and tucks it into a pocket above her heart.

“Will you make sure he reads it?” she asks Tikki, a lump forming in her throat.

“Of course,” says Tikki, looking at her mournfully. “Oh, _Marinette._ ”

She closes her eyes as Tikki presses her face to hers. “I had to.”

_Three hours earlier._

There’s a rapping sound coming from her ceiling. At first, Mari, falling asleep at her table, thinks it’s part of her lucid dreaming. Then it comes again, two knocks followed by another, and she jerks backwards, almost falling out of her seat.

It’s followed by flailing limbs and the clasping of her hands over her mouth as she tries not to make any suspicious noises. A few moments later, she’s managed to wedge the trap door open, long enough so that Chat can slip in, nothing more than a shadow.

“Hey, princess,” he says when he sees her, and Mari can _feel_ herself lighting up at the sight of him. They look at each other for a moment, and something tingles in the air. Electricity travels up her arms, and warmth curls in her stomach.

“Hello, Chat,” she replies simply. His eyes are green and bright; they blink lazily up at her as he drops down, pressing a kiss against her hand. She feels herself flush, warmth creeping up the back of her neck and spreading across her cheeks. “What’re you doing here?”

“What,” Chat says, eyes gleaming. “I can’t drop by to see a fur-end?”

She tries to hold back her giggle. “That’s the worst one yet,” she tells him matter-of-factly. “I bet Ladybug would agree.” Tikki, nestled in her pocket, nudges her.

“Oh, come on,” he cries, throwing his arms up. “My puns are paw-sitively hiss-terical.”

Mari snatches the nearest thing she can and tosses it at him lightly. He sidesteps easily and turns to watch it go. She finds a second pillow and crosses the room in two easy strides before hitting him with it.

“What– hey!” Chat grabs at the pillow, but she dances out of the way. He chases her for a moment and easily overtakes her, grabbing her forearms so he can pull her closer. Mari blinks up at him.

They’re suddenly close, too close. Standing in front of her is Chat Noir, crime-fighting superhero and alias for teen model Adrien Agreste (though he has no idea that she knows). No– that’s not right. In front of her is simply Chat, her Chat, the boy she spends half her time jumping rooftops and fighting with, sharing croissants and watching sunsets, and the other half spent blushing and searching for words that will never come.

“Marinette,” he whispers, and her name slides off of his tongue. She can feel her knees go weak at the sound of it, and the way he’s looking at her–

“Chat,” she breathes. He’s impossibly warm, and his grip on her arms is firm but gentle. Without thinking, she moves even closer.

“Why are you here?” she repeats softly, and his eyes glimmer.

“I wanted to see you,” he says, voice just as quiet. There is no sign of the playful, flirty Chat she knows so well – only Chat Noir, the way he is on their missions. Her heart sinks into her throat. “before I left.”

A shudder runs through her, hard, and he grips her tightly. “Mari?” he asks.

“What–” she begins, her throat dry and voice hoarse. “Another… another akuma?” There is no danger of speaking of akumas – he’s told her (almost) all there is to being a superhero of Paris. The rest she knows.

A sharp nod. He mistakes her fear and worry to be for both him and herself, especially – which, of course, it is, but she’s not scared for her own life. Only his and always, always his.

“It’s alright,” he says, and he presses his lips to her forehead.

“Chat,” Mari says, suddenly feeling brave – almost as much as she does with a mask on. He looks languidly down at her through half-lidded eyes, a deep green that takes her breath away in one fell swoop. “Chat, tell me.”

He hesitates. “I don’t want you to worry,” he tells her softly. She presses her lips together and she wraps her fingers around both of his wrists, feeling his heartbeat thud beneath thick leather. It’s erratic, and Mari smiles to herself for a moment, liking that she can have some sort of effect on him.

“You know I’ll worry either way,” she whispers.

“Hawkmoth…,” Chat murmurs, trailing off, but Mari knows. It’s a plan she and Chat have gone over, discussed as they lounged on the Eiffel Tower overlooking the city they’d both sworn to protect. “He’s getting stronger, smarter. We need to stop him before he goes any further.”

She swallows. She will never be able to tell him that she knows, will never be able to admit to his face that she has fallen in love with him twice, that she knows so much more about him than he has ever told her. Mari suddenly wants to cry.

“Come back,” she says finally, and it comes out sounding like she’s half-strangled. “You have to come back.”

She will make sure of it. She will make sure of it – because he is everything to her, and though it’s dangerous, she’d have it no other way. Marinette Dupain-Cheng – _Ladybug_ – will give up anything and everything for Chat Noir.

He cups her face. “Marinette,” he says again, a sigh. “I will.”

Gently, ever-so-gently, as he is in every way with her, he detaches himself and takes a step back, then another. Her heart aches with every step he takes, each one carrying him further and further away from her.

They look at each other for a moment; Mari opens her mouth to say something but falters. She wants to tell him now, is suddenly hit with a blistering need that makes her skin feel like its burning. She wants to tell him who she is, wants him to know that she is the same girl that stands beside him in every fight. Nothing spills from her mouth.

His eyes glimmer as he reaches for the handle to the trap door. Without thinking, without knowing what she’s doing, Mari leaps towards him.

He catches her by instinct, wrapping his arms around her and supporting her weight as she clings to him. “Mar–” he begins, but he’s cut off when she kisses him.

It’s not like any of her daydreams with Adrien, a kiss in the rain or after a date or something like that. It’s not like anything she’s ever expected – better, better, so much better. It’s rough and inexperienced but _right_ , like there is something that just _clicks._ For a long, long moment, they are not two but one, made for each other, their fates intertwined since the very beginning. Her heart pounds in her chest as he pulls her closer, his claws _almost_ digging into her scalp. She kisses him like their first kiss is their last, because maybe it will be.

As she presses herself closer and closer again, the letter tucked away in her pocket crinkles.

_Six minutes after._

“Ladybug,” he says, sobbing her name like it’s a lifeline he’s clinging to in the middle of a violent storm. “ _Ladybug._ ”

“Chat,” she says back. She smiles. “Mon _minou_.”

There are tears running down his cheeks, and when she reaches to touch his mask, it’s wet. “ _Ladybug_ ,” he begs, cradling her head in his arms. Gentle, gentle, gentle. “Why didn’t it work?”

The anguish in his voice makes her want to cry, too. “You’ll understand,” she says softly.

_Half an hour before._

“We need to free him,” pants Chat, holding his side. His eyes are as bright as ever. Hawkmoth has disappeared for a brief moment, and as Mari looks around, chills run down her spine.

“I know,” moans Mari. “I just… I don’t know _how._ ”

It’s suddenly too much, all of it. Hawkmoth isn’t another one of his victims, driven by just a dark emotion or a want. He’s _more_ – he’s a Miraculous gone wrong, a _what if_ , a man who is, in some ways, just like her. But it’s not just Hawkmoth; it’s the memory of how Chat’s lips taste and the letter and Tikki’s warning and the fact that today, no matter what happens or who wins, will be the end.

She stumbles backward and tries to take one deep breath after another. She has to think, to rationalize – _needs_ to, in fact, before she goes half-mad. Mari wants to scratch at her wrists until they bleed the same color as her suit, something real and tangible to tether her to reality, and she doesn’t realize she’s clawing at her suit until Chat grabs her hands.

“Ladybug,” he says, and she hiccups, struggling feebly against his grip.

“I have to,” she murmurs, though she doesn’t know what she has to do. “I need to… to–”

“ _Ladybug,_ ” he says again, louder, more insistent, and she stops when their eyes meet. “Take a deep breath.”

She’s breathing like she’s just been born and the air is something new, filling her lungs to the brim. He holds her until her heart calms and her mind stops racing, the terrible thoughts draining away and leaving only clarity.

“Okay,” she says, but her voice is thin and reedy. She clears her throat. “Okay.”

“You can do this,” he tells her before correcting himself. “ _We_ can do this.”

“A team,” she mumbles.

“Exactly,” he says, his green eyes gleaming. “You’re stuck with me _fur_ ever.” She can’t hold back the small laugh that bursts out of her, a bright sound that sends the shadows scrambling. Well – not all of them. He’s still here.

Mari throws her arms around him and listens for his steady, reassuring heartbeat. _Forever,_ she thinks, but forever will be far too long of a time. “I need you.”

“And I you,” he whispers into her ear. “So don’t you dare think about leaving me, my Lady.”

A few minutes later, they’re ripped apart, and Mari thinks fleetingly about how glad she is she never promised him forever.

_Thirteen minutes before._

“His pin–” she breathes to herself when she figures it out. “Chat Noir–” He’s not next to her. Mari panics as she scans the room, looking for him.  

In the next moment, Hawkmoth is gone; she’s alone. “Chat?” she calls. “ _Chat Noir_!”

“Looking for me?” purrs a voice. The hairs on the back of her neck raise in warning. Something’s not right. Her instincts are screaming at her to get away, to _run_ , but she stands her ground. Chat – she has to stay for Chat, has to make sure that Hawkmoth hasn’t done anything to him.

“Chat Noir,” she gasps, seeing his silhouette framed by darkness. “Chat, I’m glad you’re–”

 _Alright_ dies in her throat when he stalks out, eyes fixed on her, moving slowly but with purpose – a predator stalking his prey. The bell tinkles, a seemingly innocuous sound that causes goosebumps to raise on her arms.

His suit is white.

_Forty-nine hours earlier._

Tikki hovers in front of her, looking solemn as Mari stares over the rooftops, eyes following the route that Chat has just taken. She wishes she could follow him; it would take less than a minute to transform, and then she’d be bounding over rooftops until she catches up.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, Mari stays where she is, leaning against the railing and sighing as she watches the sun set. The sky is painted with brilliant colors, pinks and oranges and faint blue. Her mind whirs at the sight, coming up with outfit after outfit that she files away in her head.

“Tikki,” she says. “What am I going to do?”

“The answers are where they always have been,” chirps Tikki, turning to look at her with kind eyes. “in your heart.”

For some reason, her words make Mari smile. Her smile only grows when she thinks about him – kind and witty and funny and, well, really attractive and _brave…_

“I know–” She doesn’t want to say it, not yet, so she changes her words. “I know how I feel about him, Tikki, I just– augh!” She groans, her hands clutching at her face in different directions as if they don’t quite know where to go.

Memories haunt her, years’ worth of akumas, of danger that leaves Chat Noir bleeding or bruised or every kind of hurt in place of her. Her cure heals him every time, even when she can only _partially_ heal herself – though she’ll never let him know that little fact.

She’s never asked Tikki about it, never questioned it nor the scars that litter her body where Chat hadn’t gotten there in time. There’s quite a few of them, and they’re all wicked reminders, silver lines that run up her arms or wind across her torso – or, the worst of them, that stretches from her thigh and climbs up her hip, one that’d left her limping for a week.

But since her skin stitches itself back together well enough, there’s never been any lasting damage.

“I wish he wouldn’t do that,” Mari sighs, pushing up her sleeves to look at the faint lines that criss-cross her arms, almost as complicated as her love life. She frowns. “Jump in front of me like that, I mean.”

“Marinette,” Tikki says in warning, her voice somber. Then she, too, sighs, like she’s resigned – because Tikki understands. “What would you give?”

“For Chat?” Mari says. For Chat (Noir), for _Adrien_ … the answer is clear as day. “Anything.”

She and Tikki look at each other.

Tikki falters for a moment, facing her. “Are you sure about this, Marinette?”

“ _Anything_ ,” she says again, a promise in itself. “You said our fates are intertwined… that Ladybug cannot exist without Chat Noir. So I would give anything.”

Tikki whispers something. Mari holds the words in her heart as their magic begins to tamper with fate itself.

_Present_

She takes a step back but refuses to flee, her heart pounding against the fragile skin of her throat. Chat Blanc’s eyes, she notices, are an entirely different green – darker, somehow, deeper, more yellow-ish than green.

“Chat,” she says for what must be the thousandth time. “Chat, please, _please_ , listen to me.”

“I am your Chat,” he croons, and Mari shivers. She doesn’t know what he wants, what, in a few moments’ time, could have driven him to be akumatized. She knows his – feelings – for her run deeper than she can imagine; perhaps that in itself is a driving force. Or maybe Hawkmoth has preyed on him because his powers are meant to destroy. He is the darkness to her light – one inexistent without the other – but it does come with a price.

“We can be greater,” says Chat, and his voice is sickening. “You and me, together, Ladybug.”

 _No_ , she wants to say, but the word gets stuck in her throat. A purple mask glows over his face for a moment, and Chat Blanc snarls, a low, threatening sound.

He turns and bellows into the darkness. “I don’t listen to _you_!” A white-colored tail lashes out, striking air but just another dangerous weapon he can use. She’s crying, somehow – this is not the Chat she knows. “You’ll get what you want, Hawkmoth, but _I_ am in control.”

All of the things he’s saying is jumbled up. It doesn’t make sense, any of it. He wants power, he wants control, he wants… _her_. He’s deluded, something Hawkmoth is an expert at, twisting wants and needs and emotions so it sounds like he’s the good guy. That Hawkmoth can give to him what the world cannot.

“We don’t have to fight,” Chat Blanc says, still looking at her with those off-colored eyes. He holds out a hand. “You could join me.”

He says it with reverie, like he really believes it. Like he really believes that she’ll join him, that she will give up now, so close to the end.

For a moment, it’s very, very tempting.

_Four minutes after._

It hurts to breathe. Okay, well – it hurts to do anything, really. Through the gashes in her sleeve, she can see torn skin; more striking, though, are the veins in her arm that are turning white. She watches it inch up her arm, a remnant of what’s happened.

Her left side burns. She knows that if she looks, she’ll see white there, too. Every movement sends fire rippling through her veins, burning up her insides. Mari sobs but grits her teeth against the pain, twirling her yo-yo as she plans her next move.

 _Worth it_ , her heart sings with every pulse. _Worth it, worth it, worth it._ Chat is worth everything, and he’s _here_ , pressed against her back in the most familiar of ways, tail curling around her protectively but not hindering her.

“Ladybug?” he murmurs, loud enough so she can hear. “you okay?”

Sweet boy – he’s so concerned about her that it hurts, and she chokes on another sob that builds in her throat. “I’m okay,” she says shakily, and though they’re not facing each other, she can tell that he doesn’t believe her. “ _Really_ , Chat.”

“Ladybug,” he says again, and a hand catches hers, their fingers lacing together. She holds onto him tightly, not wanting to let go. “I– I’m sorry.”

Her heart aches. “Don’t be sorry,” she says simply, because it’s not his fault. It’s never his fault, and even if it was, she’d forgive him in a heartbeat. “He used you – used your emotions and thoughts and dreams against you. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I hurt you,” he says, voice trembling. “I _hurt_ you, and – you’re still standing by my side. I don’t…” _deserve this, deserve_ you. His unspoken words hang in the air, but she doesn’t deserve him, either.

“You’re here now,” she tells him, squeezing his hand. “and that’s more than enough for me.”

They’re both shaking, trembling with the weight of not a world but a few words. She wants to spin around, to kiss him until he’s breathless but understanding. He would’ve done the same for her.

“You’re my partner, Chat,” she whispers finally. “I would do it again, if I had to.”

“That’s what I don’t – that’s what…,” he says, and she finally does spin around, grabbing his shoulders so he turns to face her, too. She ignores the throbbing of her side, the flaring of pain under her skin as she puts her hands his face, gently cupping his cheeks. She ignores the fact that Hawkmoth can attack at any moment and presses their foreheads together, so close she can see every little detail of his face.

“Chat,” she says; she’s out of words. Her heart thrums when she finally figures it out, what she can say, the only thing she hasn’t told him yet. His eyes are large and green and the color of spring, the one she knows.

“Ladybug,” he whispers.

“Chat, je…” She swallows. “Je t’aime, Chat.”

She watches his eyes go wide, his pupils grow larger. Watches him freeze under her touch. Watches his face change – fear, hope, disbelief, and something that’s been there since day two (not one) that she’s been so blind to.

He opens his mouth to respond. “Don’t,” she whispers, pressing a finger to his lips and marveling at how they feel. “I just wanted you to know.”

_Present_

“No.”

He stops. “No?” he asks, disbelief coloring his tone.

She staggers but stands straight, lifting her chin so she can look him squarely in the eye. “No,” she repeats softly.

He growls, crouching low, eyes still boring into hers. Light flickers over his face once again, and she can hear a faint buzzing but not the words that Hawkmoth whispers to him. Under his influence, Chat Blanc will be even harder to break free.

Mari spins her yo-yo, the weapon giving her a measure of security. She’ll have to fight him, then, and find a way to get Chat Noir back. His bell tinkles hauntingly; she mirrors his form and prepares herself.

He’s not moving, though, the only part of him that is his tail, sweeping back and forth across the floor. The butterfly is still there, she realizes, and then she remembers that Hawkmoth can control his victims. It’s a perfect distraction.

Before she can second-guess herself, before she can regret it, Mari leaps toward Chat Blanc and slams into him, one hundred and twenty pounds of muscle against his frozen form. Normally, it wouldn’t have worked, but he has no time to brace himself. She pins him against the floor even as the purple glow begins to fade, Chat Blanc tearing himself free from Hawkmoth’s control.

He snarls in her face, hissing and spitting like a cat as his elongated teeth snap at her. She puts her weight on his wrists and legs, pressing herself against him as he struggles.

“I’m sorry it had to come to this,” she tells him truthfully as she dodges sharp teeth and clocks him in the face. He falls back, winded, but manages to catch her suit, claws tearing through her protection like it’s paper-thin.

“If you refuse,” pants Chat Blanc. “then I’ll have to kill you.”

His bell, she realizes as it tinkles under her when he rolls so he’s pinning her. His bell doesn’t make noise, not like this – the akuma must be there. If she can grab it…

They struggle against each other; Mari lashes out with a leg and sends him flying backwards and away from her, but he recovers in an instant. He throws a punch that she easily sidesteps, then another and another, something dark twisting in his features.

Then he’s barreling into her, meeting her blow for blow. He knows her moves just as well as she knows his; they are evenly matched. It’s a dangerous dance. He twirls his baton as it stretches longer, a shield that keeps her from getting too close. She wraps her yo-yo around it and yanks hard, flicking her wrist and watching triumphantly as it spins in the air, once, twice, three times before landing far, far away.

“Oh, so you want to play, do you, Ladybug?” His eyes gleam, bright spots in the shadows.

“Only with you, kitty-cat,” she responds, trying to cover up how utterly _terrified_ she is at the moment. It’s easier when they’re fighting, and she has nothing to focus on but staying alive, but now, when they’re circling each other? The fear drains into her, a fog creeping across her mind.

“ _The Miraculous!”_ cries a disembodied voice, distorted and echo-y. “ _Bring it to me._ ”

“Oh, believe me,” purrs Chat Blanc. “I will, once I’ve had my way with her.”

 _Once I’ve had my way with her_ , she thinks, her heart sinking. Like she is a toy or some prize to be won, like they are not equals, and she is far, far below him.

“Bring it,” she spits shakily, feeling like her bones are rattling inside of her chest. He smiles, the same devious grin that Chat Noir has, but it looks– different.

He raises a hand instead of moving towards her like expected, and she readies her Lucky Charm. Their eyes meet for the thousandth time, and in his is a challenge.

“ _Cataclysm!_ ”

_Fifty-two hours earlier._

Mari swings through the air, laughing as she races across the rooftops. This part of being a superhero is never tiring. It’s exhilarating, being able to fly over the city she loves so much. It’s the taste of freedom she will never be able to get any other way, a strength instilled in her that she normally doesn’t have.

She lands strategically on the roof of the Agreste mansion where the cameras can’t catch her, though she’s not sure Gabriel Agreste would be too opposed to seeing her, either.

Adrien is waiting for her, and when she slips in through his open window, his eyes light up. She likes that, likes being able to put such a bright light in his eyes even if she can’t quite believe it’s because of _her._

“Hi, Ladybug,” he says, flushing red.

“Adrien,” she responds in greeting, padding forwards a few steps. “It’s good to see you again.” It’s a miracle that she keeps from stuttering, but this isn’t her first visit, and the Ladybug suit and mask helps a lot.

“It’s, ah, good to, um, see you, too,” Adrien stammers out, ears tinged pink. She can’t help but giggle. He’s unbelievably cute, responding quickly when she steps forward and wraps her arms around her neck. “Uh, yeah, I–”

She doesn’t let him finish his sentence, pressing a finger to his lips so he stays quiet. She unravels herself and smiles. “I, erm, got you a gift,” she says, heart beating quickly from their more-than-close proximity.

He blinks. “Really?” he asks. She can’t help herself as her lips tug upwards into another smile at his enthusiasm, the way his lips form an ‘o’ of surprise when she nods.

“Here,” she says, pushing a wrapped box into his hands. It’s not much, really – just a pair of leather gloves she’d made when she could find a few minutes here and there between homework and saving Paris. “for you.”

On the inside, she’s stitched a very small green paw-print as a joke of sorts. It will take a while for him to notice, though, and by then… well. He’ll know who she is.

“Oh, wow,” he says uncertainly, looking down at the box.

“You should open it,” she urges gently, and he does as she says, tearing at the wrapping paper and lifting the lid of the box.

“Oh,” he breathes, setting the box down and lifting out the gloves. “These are– amazing. They’re beautiful – oh! I… I have a gift, too, um, for you.”

She’s shocked into silence. Of all things, she hadn’t expected that. He sets the gloves back into the box hastily and turns to grab a bouquet full of flowers, holding them out to her shyly. She takes them and breathes in, sighing with pleasure.

Being Ladybug has a couple of side effects, and one of them is her love of flowers. This time of year, there are less of them, so this is a more-than-pleasant surprise.

“How did you even get these?” she asks, closing her eyes and taking another deep breath. They smell sweet and remind her of spring and bright-colored meadows. “It must’ve cost you…”

“You mentioned how much you missed spring,” said Adrien, and Mari recalls saying so the last time she visited. “so I thought you might like them.”

“Like them?” she gasps, humming with happiness over her gift. “I _love_ them. Your gift is so much better than mine.”

When she opens her eyes, she realizes that the flowers are _white_ , a fact that slipped her mind in her excitement. Her smile fades into a frown. Adrien watches her expression change, brows crinkling in worry.

“Do you not… have I offended you?” he asks. “I’m sorry, I just thought–”

“No, no, no, it’s really sweet of you to think of this. No one’s ever really… done that for me.” She puts them down and darts to throw her arms around him. “Thank you.”

“O-of course,” he mumbles. “Thank you, too, Ladybug.”

What she doesn’t tell him is that to her, white is the color of death.

_Present_

For the first time since the beginning of their fight, Mari makes a mistake – and it’s her biggest one. It’s one she told herself she wouldn’t make, not since Chat Blanc stepped out to face her, but she can’t help it.

She looks at his face. Underneath that white mask and those wicked eyes is still Adrien, still Chat. It’s the same nose and the same mouth she’s kissed and the same way his hair flops over his forehead and that _smile_ –

It’s a mistake that will cost her _everything._ Looking at him, at the boy she loves, she hesitates. It’s hard looking someone she knows in the eye like this, and it’s even harder because it’s _him_.

He’s got her pressed against the wall, and though it will only take a pull for her to snatch the bell from his suit – a pull to free Chat and release the akuma, she looks at him and falters.

A moment is all he needs, and the bubbling energy caught between his claws sings as it nears her, heat radiating from it as if it is a dying star. She’s too caught up in the planes of his face, the one she’s memorized since she met him.

“Adrien,” she says as if it will bring him back.

He laughs, and then there’s a burning sensation as she raises her left arm to block his attack. Mari isn’t fast enough to stop him as he rakes his claws across her forearm and side, the Cataclysm burning against the material of her suit and her skin.

She screams _._

_Forty-two hours earlier._

“My Lady?” Chat calls, and she can sense his presence as he lands behind her, walking to the edge of the roof where she’s perched. She doesn’t turn to face him, her throat tight.

_An eye for an eye…_

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what Mari has just given up for him a few hours ago, and she will never tell him as long as she’s alive. He’s going to be upset, most likely. More than upset, but it doesn’t matter.

_A life for a life…_

“My Lady, are you alright?” Footsteps, and Mari flinches when he puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Yeah,” she says, but her voice cracks and betrays her. “I’m okay, Chat.”

He sits down next to her and puts an arm around her. For once, she doesn’t lean away but rather into his warmth, finding solidity in her partner. He’s a constant, something that has never changed even as she grew older and things evolved.

“Are you paw-sitive?” he cracks a pun, and she digs her elbow into his ribs. He yelps. “Hey, that was pain-fur.”

She groans. “Don’t make me regret being friends with you,” she quips, rolling her eyes in fond exasperation.

“Don’t you mean _fur-_ ends?” he jokes, and Mari swats at his shoulder. He’s proud of that one – she can tell – and he will most definitely be using it again sometime.

“Oh, shut up,” she says, and they share a laugh before lapsing into silence. “I was just thinking about Hawkmoth… all of this is going to be over soon.” She spreads her arms in front of her at the city. A few buildings down, she can make out the bright lights of the Dupain-Cheng bakery.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, bugaboo,” he says, giving her an easy smile. “With you by my side, we can do anything.”

_To protect the one you love most… to keep his fire from the waters of death…_

She manages to smile back but looks away. “I guess.”

He takes her hand. “Really, my Lady. Hawkmoth doesn’t stand a chance.”

“But he does,” she whispers. “He’s a Miraculous-wielder just like us, _chaton._ Master Fu told us himself that he’s going to be hard to defeat, especially in person. He’s stronger than we give credit for, and the only way to stop him is to take _his_ Miraculous…”

It’s funny how they’re all running in a circle, trying to take each other’s Miraculouses. As Hawkmoth strives to obtain theirs – and with them, absolute power, they will be trying to get his.

_I… I take your own protection in exchange…_

Tikki’s words ring in her head, her last sacrifice before they will face Hawkmoth himself.

“I know,” says Chat Noir. “but we’ve got one thing that he doesn’t have.”

She shifts a little so she can fully look at him, raising her eyebrows. “What’s that?” she asks, smiling a little. “Cat puns and my immeasurable beauty.”

He flushes, obviously not expecting that and is thrown off before recovering. “You forgot my dashing looks and my charm, my Lady.” He winks, and heat rises up her neck and creeps up her cheeks. “But we’ve also got each other.”

 _…in exchange for his; so let fate be changed, and he will not be hurt beyond what you yourself can inflict upon him. Death’s hold over him be released so he may not die in your place._  

_Forty-nine hours before._

“… _die in your place._ ”

“So Hawkmoth won’t be able to hurt him?” Mari asks, because it is too good to be true. She holds her breath, hoping, _hoping._

Tikki bows her head, large eyes brimming with tears. “Yes,” she answers softly. “If Hawkmoth tries to kill Chat Noir, he will find himself unable to. But you are no longer protected, Marinette.”

She nods. She knows what Tikki had meant when she’d chanted the words that would lead to Chat’s protection. “My suit,” she recalls. “won’t be indestructible anymore, will it?”

Tikki nods. “And your wounds will not be able to heal, not even partially. If you’re wounded fatally…” she trails off and bursts into tears. Mari cradles her kwami in her hands and lets herself cry, too.

“Thank you, Tikki,” she murmurs. “for everything.”

For this. For being her friend, for giving her Ladybug, for every moment she’s needed Tikki and then some.  

“Please be careful, Marinette,” her kwami says back. “I don’t want to lose you.”

_Three minutes after._

The bell crushes under her weight, and the black butterfly flutters from it. She staggers, once, twice, twirling her yo-yo and catching the akuma.

“No more evil-doing for you, little akuma. I’m freeing you from evil,” she begins, light bursting around her. “Gotcha!”

The butterfly flies out, bright white. She watches it go. “Bye-bye, little butterfly,” she sighs, and Chat Noir stumbles next to her.

“Ladybug?” he asks, and she sobs, crashing into him and wrapping her arms around him.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” she says into the black leather of his shoulder, laughing a little. “You’re you again.”

“I don’t remember…,” he says, and the words seem to spark something in him. He tenses against her. “I… did _Hawkmoth_ …”

“Yes,” she says as quietly as she can, tightening her hold on him even though it feels like lightning is travelling through her.

“I– oh, _God_ , my Lady, did I hurt you?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” she says harshly. “It wasn’t your fault. And _you_ didn’t hurt me… you’d never hurt me.” Chat Blanc would, though. _Her_ Chat, however, just lets out a distressed noise.

“No, no, no, no,” Chat says, horrified when he pushes her away so he can look at her. His eyes linger on the gashes that run diagonally down her side and the matching ones that cut over her arm.

“There’s no time,” she snarls, and before he can protest, she turns her back to him. He does the same, breathing heavily. Nearby, there’s the sound of a deep, rich laugh that can only belong to Hawkmoth.

It hurts to breathe. Okay, well – it hurts to do anything.

_Five minutes after._

“Chat,” she yells, her hold on Hawkmoth slipping. Her Lucky Charm – a grabber, like the toy ones from arcades – is already useless, used against Chat Blanc earlier. She’s running out of time, but so is he; this has to end _now._ “Grab his pin!”

Against Chat Noir, already enraged at Hawkmoth for being akumatized, their enemy stands no chance. Combined with Mari holding him down, Chat has no problem snatching the pin off of Hawkmoth’s chest.

There’s a flash of purple light as Mari lets go of Hawkmoth, stumbling as the poison courses through her veins. Eventually it will reach her heart – that is the way Chat Blanc chose for the Cataclysm to destroy her, as he can control its effects. That’s how she’s going to die.

A kwami floats in front of the two of them as she makes her way to Chat’s side. “You must be the Yin-Yang,” he says, and though Chat looks confused, she isn’t.

“I’m Ladybug,” she says, and when Chat still looks dumbfounded, she helps out. “and this is my partner, Chat Noir.”

“Thank you, Ladybug and Chat Noir,” the kwami says. “Master… he…”

“It’s okay,” Chat says, seeming to catch up. “your, uh, Master is–”

“ _Chat_ ,” she groans.

“–has been taken care of,” he finishes, winking at her. She lets out a stunned laugh, having expected him to make a pun. She looks at the toy grabber and tosses it into the air.

“Miraculous Ladybug!” she cries, and the red healing light swirls around them. Any property damage is restored, and the wounds that have been inflicted on Chat Noir and Hawkmoth both are healed. The only thing that remains unfixed are her still-dripping gashes.

“I was wondering when you were going to do that,” Chat says, watching as the red light fades away.

“Well, Hawkmoth interrupted when I was going to the first time,” she shoots back, but there’s no fire behind it. Her earrings and his ring beeps at the same time – their five minutes is almost up.

He looks worried. “I, uh–”

“It’s okay,” she tells him softly. “Really… Adrien.”

Bright green eyes flash in her direction. “You– you knew?”  

She bit her lip. “I didn’t mean to,” she chokes out. “I was going to tell you that… well, you’re about to find out anyway.”

But suddenly her head is spinning and everything hurts. He notices the change. “Ladybug? My Lady–”

She falls, but then he’s holding her in his arms. His eyes are drawn to the unhealed wounds that criss-cross her body. Her heart pulses, and she lets the sight of him anchor her to this world even as the poison fights to cut her ties to it.

“Ladybug,” he says, sobbing her name like it’s a lifeline he’s clinging to in the middle of a violent storm. “ _Ladybug._ ”

“Chat,” she says back. She smiles. “Mon _minou_.”

There are tears running down his cheeks, and when she reaches to touch his mask, it’s wet. “ _Ladybug_ ,” he begs, cradling her head in his arms. Gentle, gentle, gentle. “Why didn’t it work?”

The anguish in his voice makes her want to cry, too. “You’ll understand,” she says softly. She hopes it won’t take too long, that her death will be quick and not drawn-out as poison tends to make deaths.

“No, no, _no,_ ” he says. “no, _please_ , don’t… don’t leave me.”

He begins to blur. She’s not sure if it’s a side effect or if she’s crying or both, but he’s still here, her Chat. She takes a deep breath, then another, hissing because even that hurts.

“ _I can’t lose you_ ,” he moans, and her earrings give off one last _beep_ before light travels around her body. She sinks into his arms as the transformation fades, and Tikki appears, curling up in the crook of Mari’s neck.

“Marinette,” he breathes. “You… I, _please_ , Mari…”

She swallows. “I’m glad it’s you,” she tells him. She tries to look at Tikki. “Tikki, will you–”

“I know, Marinette,” Tikki whimpers. “Please hold on just a little bit longer.”

“I’m so glad it’s you,” Marinette repeats, and there are so many words she has to say, so much she still wants to do. Someone laughs in the distance – _Hawkmoth_ , she thinks. It’s over for her, but it’s over for him, too.

Through blurred vision, Mari watches Chat stand, his face distorting in something that is more than grief, more than anger. His claws curl into a fist, black as night, and she smiles. She’s won.

“ _You,_ ” snarls Chat Noir. “ _You_ did this.”

“Oh, no, my dear boy,” Mari hears, but the words are muffled as if she’s hearing them from underwater. Hawkmoth laughs again. “this is all your fault.”

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know how to use ao3 i'm so sorry someone teach me
> 
> please consider checking out my tumblr, achieving elysium.


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